


my crown is in my heart, not on my head

by desdemona (LydiaOfNarnia)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOfNarnia/pseuds/desdemona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru will never be satisfied with what he has. Even with the entire world at his fingertips, he would still yearn for more, and would work every single day until he got it.</p><p>A series of drabbles written for <a href="http://oikawaweek.tumblr.com/">Oikawa Week 2016!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day one - late nights/texting/red (passion/determination)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slow, I know, but I really wanted to write something for Oikawa Week, because Oikawa is my moon and stars.

Matsukawa isn't sure why he's surprised to get a text from Oikawa, but if he had to guess he'd say it has something to do with the fact that it’s approaching three in the morning.

It's common knowledge that Oikawa doing anything late at night is a _bad_ thing. Any time past two AM, he starts getting dangerously philosophical; not to mention the fact that his motor skills drop down to the level of a very clumsy toddler who does not quite know how to work his own thumbs. Oikawa has a habit of staying up late, and even self-imposed (not to mention Iwaizumi-imposed) bedtimes have done little to curb the issue.

Matsukawa, a prolific night-owl and night-texter, is surprised to hear his phone buzz. More than anything else, he’s curious.

_> text :: oikawa: mattsun? are you awake_

Iwaizumi has warned him many times against texting Oikawa late at night. Neither of them need another reason to stay up late, and getting involved in a conversation only gives them both the excuse. However, Matsukawa is intrigued by the vagueness of the text, so he decides that just once he’ll toss Iwaizumi’s warnings to the side. Before he can stop himself, he fires off a rapid reply.

_< outgoing text : duh. anything wrong?_

_> text :: oikawa: yes._

The answer comes quickly enough that Matsukawa is surprised. Frowning, he peers at the screen, and waits for Oikawa’s next reply as the speech bubble makes it clear that he’s still typing.

_> text :: oikawa: you’re not going to college, right?_

Matsukawa frowns down at the screen; honestly, it’s a question he hasn’t decided on yet. He isn’t in a college prep class like Oikawa or Iwaizumi, and he knows that his father is looking to him to take over the family store when he can no longer work. A part of Matsukawa wishes he could dream bigger, to aspire for a loftier goal for himself. But he’s never been much of a dreamer, not in the way Oikawa is. He’s not practical, but he’s hardly an idealist. He doubts he could ever make it in college, anyway. A quiet little life isn’t the worst thing he could ask for.

_< outgoing text : wasn’t planning on it. why?_

This is just another one of Oikawa’s late-night philosophical kicks, he tells himself, even as a moment stretches on without Oikawa’s typing speech bubble appearing. He gets like this, he gets over it, and he probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning.

He isn't sure why the question makes him feel so unsettled, but it does. Maybe the future just isn't something he likes to think about.

_> text :: oikawa: im going to college with iwachan._

_> text : we applied to the same school. we both got in._

_> text : the school is a rival of Nishikino University. that's where ushiwaka is supposed to be going_

It isn't news to Matsukawa, not really -- he'd known that Iwaizumi had applied to a school Oikawa was being scouted by. He hadn't known they'd been accepted, however. Forcing a smile Oikawa cannot see, he feels a stab of happiness for his friends. Somehow, it's bittersweet.

Oikawa isn't done yet.

_> text :: oikawa: its been the four of us for a long time, you know? even when none of us were starters and we all used to sit on the bench and cheer together_

_> text : a big part of me doesn't want it to end._

Matsukawa can empathize with that. He swallows hard, starts to type something, and then quickly deletes it. Oikawa is still going.

_> text :: oikawa: im not scared, but i really do want this year to be something special. i dont want us all to split up_

_> text : i want it to be you and me and makki and iwachan for a long time_

Matsukawa knows Oikawa well enough to be able to read the unspoken _‘forever’_ in that sentence. He almost feels the urge to scoff aloud, to shake his head and tell Oikawa how unrealistic that is -- because it really is, painfully so. Yet he knows what it's like to want so desperately not to lose what they have now. He doesn't want to think of what will happen in the Spring High, after high school, in the future. Thinking about it makes him nauseous, makes him want to cringe away from the world and hide.

He knows Oikawa isn't like that. Oikawa has always been braver than he is, braver than any of them.

_> text :: oikawa: it won't be the same_

_> text : i don't know what im ready to leave behind_

_> text : but I want to do something unforgettable._

Matsukawa grips the phone tightly in his hands. He knows exactly what Oikawa is saying -- he wants it too, more than anything else.

_> text :: oikawa: i dont want to lose without having left a mark. I want to go to spring high and i want to win. i want that more than anything else in the world, and i want to win alongside the three of you. i want to win with our team._

Once this text is sent, he doesn’t send anything else; Matsukawa allows the hand holding his phone to gently fall onto his bed, and he gapes up at the ceiling in the darkness. What can he say, really? What is there to say?

He knows what Oikawa means -- he wants it, they all want to win so badly that the desire is nearly tangible in front of them. Matsukawa isn’t much of a dreamer but he can see the four of them standing on the court together, taste the victory on their lips as they scream together, envision themselves standing in the nationals stadium…

It wouldn’t be the same without each other. The experience would not be the same. The years spent training and working their asses off would not be worthwhile if his teammates were not by his side.

And he knows Oikawa feels this more than anyone, because Oikawa burns with a passion stronger than anything Matsukawa has ever known. He is molten fire, running red-hot through the veins of the team. His ambition is the force that drives them forward, that is forever propelling him to be better than what he is. His ambition might someday be his downfall, but Matsukawa also knows it is what makes Oikawa so strong.

Minutes have passed without him texting Oikawa back; he feels bad, but he knows that with Oikawa this reflective he must seriously be in need of sleep. He picks up his phone again, narrows his eyes at it, and gently thumbs in a reply.

_ < outgoing text : i know. _

Oikawa doesn’t text back that night.


	2. day two - friends & rivals/festivals/yellow (intellect/wisdom)

Kageyama Tobio is, apparently, a genius.

He doesn’t like the word. As much as he hears it, as much as it has been circulated throughout his career in the volleyball circuit -- almost as oft-mentioned as that dreaded regal sobriquet -- something about it has always struck him as wrong. In Kageyama’s opinion, he isn’t much of a genius at all.

Geniuses are good at math. He barely knows his times tables.

Geniuses are good at reading. He can read just fine, but his teacher calls his grammar “lacking”, and he sometimes has to look up what certain words mean on his phone.

Geniuses can speak other languages. He’s barely passing his English class.

But when the ball is hovering just inches above his hands, he finds himself speaking in a language entirely his own. Movement is more natural than any math equation. He can read the entire court in a second, read the players and the positions in a fraction of the time it would take him to read a page of a book.

Setting is the most natural thing in the world to him. Maybe that’s what makes him a geniuses -- geniuses are great without having to try, and legendary when they do.

Oikawa Tooru is not a genius.

For as smart as he is -- and Kageyama knows his former senpai is in college prep classes, has seen him reading in the stands between matches, and is aware that Oikawa can handle schoolwork like it’s nothing -- Oikawa has to _try_. In everything he does, he tries. Relentlessly, tirelessly, without faltering or doubting himself, he tries. Kageyama thinks he envies him.

Oikawa is relentless effort, constantly pushing himself forward. He soars on self-made wings. He uses his own intelligence and drive to push him ahead of the competition, always running, never falling a step behind -- always working harder than anyone else. Oikawa Tooru is baffling.

He and Oikawa are different in many ways. Yet for as much as they differ, Kageyama cannot say he _hates_ his former senpai, or even resents him the way Oikawa seems to think of him.

That doesn’t mean he will ever understand Oikawa Tooru. A large part of Kageyama is not sure that is even possible.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa mutters, hands buried deep within the pockets of his coat as he takes in the brightly decorated stall before them. “We’re never going to be friends.”

Kageyama doesn’t blink, reaching out to study a patterned scarf laid out on the table. “I know.”

The winter festival is not an event to be missed. Kageyama has delighted in it ever since he was a child. There’s something about the way the chill bites his bare skin; how the faintly golden lights strung through the trees cast a warm glow through the streets, stalls, and people. There is something about it that reminds Kageyama of Christmas, of chilly nights spent curled up in bed waiting for the clatter of a mystical man’s sleigh on the roof, of waking up to open presents at the crack of dawn. He has come to the Christmas festival every year, on the same day, ever since he was small.

“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?”

Kageyama looks up sharply. He is surprised Oikawa would remember.

The older boy’s lips quirk up, as if he has just thought of something very amusing. Meeting up with Oikawa had not been in Kageyama’s plans for the night, but purely coincidence. Normally he comes here alone, every year since his father died and his mother became too busy to take him. The company is hardly friendly, and as chilly as the air outside. Somehow the snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky seem fitting.

Oikawa doesn’t look at him as he hands the stall clerk several bills, nor as he meticulously plucks a button from the rack full of them. Kageyama studies the thing as it slips into Oikawa’s hands -- painted a sunshine yellow, with some writing in English that he can not read scrawled upon it. It’s a metal thing, cheap and probably flimsy; Oikawa looks pleased with himself as he holds it up to examine it.

When he turns to Kageyama, the fairy lights strung in the trees cast his face in an eerie golden glow. His eyes are wide, dark and dancing; he looks almost amused as he reaches out and lightly pins the trinket to the front of Kageyama’s coat.

“For you,” he says. “Happy birthday, Tobio-chan.”

Once Kageyama leaves the booth, he doesn’t see Oikawa again. He doesn’t think much of the pin until he goes home that night, and on a whim looks up what the inscribed word means.

 _King,_ he reads from his computer screen, eyes blinking dully down at the definition. _One who rules a kingdom or state according to his own terms._

Kageyama Tobio is not a genius. He is certainly not a king.

Oikawa Tooru is.


	3. day three - beginnings/endings/green (growth/self-reliance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki's chapter! And if this seems sort of similar to Matsukawa's it makes sense, considering what a pair Makki and Mattsun are. All of these chapters are taking place after Karasuno defeats Aoba Johsai, mostly around the time of the third years' graduation. The rough timeline for these -- Kageyama (Day 2), Mattsun (Day 1), Makki (Day 3). Next will be Kunimi, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, and then I'll write one from the eyes of Oikawa himself.

The first time Hanamaki meets Oikawa Tooru, it is on the other side of the net, as Kitagawa Daiichi crushes Hanamaki’s middle school team into the ground.

When he looks back later, he won't remember much about that encounter. The crushing weight of defeat, failure in their last year of middle school, stung so hard that Hanamaki and his team were all but blinded. He won't remember the blinding grin on Oikawa’s face as he shakes hands with Hanamaki’s team captain. He won't remember losing his footing in the second set, landing hard on his rear after a receive but scrambling up just as quickly. He won't remember the sting in his palms or the way the tears burn his eyes as his team sags in the face of their loss.

He will remember the way the setter and ace had stood out in that game -- a seemingly unshakeable duo, in harmony with the other to the point of being frightening. He remembers how strange he had found it, to be that in tune with another person. It wasn't just them -- the entire team, moving in a startling sort of tandem, each movement seeming to be predicted and controlled by the puppet master with the ball in his hands. He could not help but wonder what sort of person could inspire such trust, such unfailing loyalty.

At the time, Hanamaki could not understand it.

Now he thinks he understands better. Oikawa Tooru controls his team not with an iron first, not through pretty words and dancing eyes, but by being their backbone. Without the setter, any team would fall apart. Without Oikawa, the exact dynamic of what the Seijoh team special would slip away.

At the time, though, all Hanamaki could taste was the bitterness that comes with loss. He thought he might hate that setter and his ace, just a little bit.

When his team was walking to their bus, Hanamaki caught a glimpse of the Kitagawa Daiichi boys doing the same. The first things he saw were three boys in blue and white jackets, shuffling side by side in languid formation; they were followed quickly by the rest of the team, with the setter and ace at the back of the pack. His eyes immediately locked on _them_ , the instruments to their team’s victory and his’ failure.

Cool spring air brought a chill to the day. Oikawa Tooru paused a distance away from the bus, back facing a field of brilliant emerald, to pull his jacket tight around his shoulders. That’s when he caught sight of Hanamaki.

The middle school boy froze in place. Suddenly, under that cool gaze, the eyes that saw everything had spotted him. He felt bare, exposed, frozen in place as Oikawa Tooru read into every inch of him. He was terrified.

Against that backdrop of green and spring flowers, Oikawa’s lips curled into a smile. Not the wide grin he’d worn on the court -- a tiny thing, and that was most frightening of all.

Hanamaki couldn’t get on the bus fast enough, and on that day he’d resolved to push Oikawa Tooru out of his mind.

Things are different now -- with three years later and all the experience of a team under his belt, he knows Oikawa Tooru intimately. He knows Oikawa Tooru is an _idiot_.

Oikawa is the type of person who leaves the house with a hanger still in his clothes, who throws tantrums over milk bread, who takes at least ten selfies on any given day. Oikawa is obsessive, obnoxious, controlling, and wants so much more than what he can get.

Oikawa is also tremendously loyal to those he cares about, cunning, and ambitious to a fault. Oikawa knows exactly what he’s doing, and somewhere along the line he’s become one of Hanamaki’s best friends.

Looking back now it’s not difficult to imagine that middle school boy’s confusion -- he couldn’t understand why this setter, this player just like him, was so important. Oikawa gave off the impression of a god among mere mortals; sometimes he still does, but Hanamaki likes to think he’s above that now.

It’s the day before graduation, and his entire family is in chaos. His mother is in a tizzy over what dress she’ll wear to the ceremony, bouncing phone calls back and forth between Hanamaki’s three aunts as to what they’ll wear. His father is trying to rent a suit last minute, and his little brothers keep peppering him with the same questions over and over: what college are you going to, where will you live when you graduate, are you gonna get good grades? They don’t recognize his discomfort -- well, since Haruto is thirteen he _probably_ does, and is just being a brat -- but one can hardly blame Hanamaki for wanting to get away.

He finds him flat on his back, out in the field they used to run laps in warmer weather. It’s far too chilly now; for late March it feels like they’re still stuck in January. Yet he is not surprised to find him at school, because that’s where Hanamaki had been drawn to as well.

“Hey,” he says, leaning down in the grass besides him. The strands are old and brittle, dead but slowly returning to life -- hardly green as much as they are grey, but he doesn’t mind. It fits the day, somehow, and the atmosphere between them.

Oikawa doesn’t lift his head. “Makki. Surprise, surprise. I thought your mother would have been holding you prisoner.”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ sound as dead grass crunches under his head. “She tried, but I have my uniform ironed and ready for tomorrow.” _Tomorrow._ The word echoes in the silence between them “The big day.”

“I’m not scared,” Oikawa says suddenly, and Hanamaki nods his head.

“Neither am I.”

It won’t be the last time they see each other -- he knows this for a fact. The beginning of his relationship with Oikawa Tooru, if you can call a lost match and catching each other’s eyes in a field of green much like this one, was hardly memorable. The end will not come, maybe never come, because the friendships formed over the past three years are ones Hanamaki hopes can last a lifetime. Neither of them are the children they were on that one day in middle school.

Oikawa has grown since then. He’s become more intuitive, more self-assured, more independent. More dangerous.

Hanamaki has too, and he no longer looks at the future with a feeling of unease. The world before him, he thinks, is an open book -- he just has to dare to turn the page.


	4. day four - superpowers/animals/blue (trust/loyalty)

“Kunimi-chan! Hey, hang on!”

Kunimi instinctively freezes up at the loud voice ringing across the courtyard. Only one person in the world calls him “Kunimi-chan”; some days he curses himself for choosing to attend a school with such a ridiculously over-the-top captain. Kunimi doesn’t like loud people, especially when they persist in bothering him when he doesn’t want to be bothered.

Grumbling under his breath, he shoves his last-minute homework in his bag before turning to face the source of the scream. Oikawa Tooru is motoring towards him at full speed, and in his hands he holds a tiny black-and-white bundle of fur.

Kunimi freezes, blinking in bafflement. Why on earth does Oikawa have a _kitten_ at school?

Oikawa stops in front of him, panting heavily. The kitten lets out an irritated mewl as his grip on her tightens, and Kunimi automatically moves to take the animal out of his captain’s arms. It’s obvious Oikawa has no clue how to hold one -- especially a baby like this. Cradling the ball of fluff in his arms, Kunimi is surprised to find that the kitten can’t be more than a few months old.

“Oikawa-senpai… why did you bring me a cat?”

“That’s -- exactly --” Oikawa pauses for another breath, face unattractively flushed, before he manages to straighten up. “What I need your help with! My nephew Takeru just got his first kitten, but he and his mother are going on vacation for a week, so they left him with us to take care of! The only problem is, she doesn’t like being left alone! I didn’t realize she snuck into my bag until we were already on the train, and I just know if I try to bring her to class my teachers will find us out! This is why I need _you_ , Kumimi-chan --”

Kumimi draws back slightly as Oikawa jabs a finger into his chest. “You’ll take care of her for me, won’t you? Please? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important, you know!”

Kunimi does know -- and he also knows that Oikawa is well aware of his soft spot for kittens. Swallowing hard, he tries to say no (he has to say no -- he can’t bring a cat to class!), but then his eyes catch on the kitten’s round, dark ones. A tiny collar is fixes around her neck, neon blue against the white fur; it suits her. She has curled up in his arms almost immediately, and seems to have taken a liking to him; nestled against his chest, her tiny whiskers brush his collar, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing matches hers almost exactly.

She’s adorable. He’s trapped.

“Alright,” he says, face carefully maintaining its usual blank mask. Oikawa lights up with another blinding grin.

“Thank you, Kunimi-chan!” he chirps. “Give her back at the end of practice today, alright?”

Kunimi simply nods, helping the kitten as she attempts to tuck herself into his t-shirt. She is making a valiant effort, sharp claws leaving tiny red lines against his skin. By the time he has her fully concealed in his shirt, Oikawa has already run off to his own class.

* * *

It’s weird, Kunimi can’t help but reflect, to have a captain like Oikawa.

Oikawa himself is weird, with his fangirls and over-the-top gestures, frightening in the way he can go from airheaded to cold and calculating the moment he steps onto the volleyball court. But Oikawa is never really an airhead -- he is constantly watching the people around him, always seeing and understanding things about them that they think they keep hidden. Oikawa is able to get beneath someone’s skin, not just with well-placed words but through sheer observation. He deconstructs people like a puzzle -- he figures them out. It’s his own individual superpower, the ability to read anyone like a book.

Kunimi can’t fathom it. He doesn’t like people. They’re loud, they’re annoying, and they’re always trying to make him put effort into things that don’t matter. If he wanted to interact with them, he would; if he wanted to try hard, he would. Most of the time he just doesn’t want to, and it seems like people can’t understand that.

Oikawa is different, though. Oikawa understands his laziness because he understands him, and he doesn’t ask more than Kunimi is willing to give. He will push to the limits -- the very boundaries of what Kunimi how much finds acceptable to try -- but he will never cross that line. He values Kunimi for his laziness -- _“it’s your skill,”_ he’s told him more than once -- and _puts it to use_ for the team.

Oikawa is unlike any captain Kunimi has ever had, and he can not help but respect him.

Even if he is a sort of ridiculous person, he is ridiculous in a way that has won the trust and loyalty of his entire team. They all bend and shift at Oikawa’s hand, and a part of Kunimi thinks that sort of power might be something to be feared.

The rest of him couldn’t care less. Oikawa knows what he’s doing, and he does it well. As long as it works, and he doesn’t violate Kunimi’s boundaries, he has his respect.

* * *

“Oikawa-senpai!”

Oikawa turns from where he’d been gathering up volleyballs, eyes wide and expectant. Kunimi shifts to show the bulge in the front of his dark blue gym shirt. “I have your cat.”

Eyes lighting up, Oikawa drops the armful of volleyballs as he moves forward. “Ahh, Kunimi-chan! Thank you so much! Maru looks so well taken care off! Not that I’d expect any less from you!”

Oikawa says that, and he means it. It makes something in Kunimi’s chest stir with pride as Oikawa removes the clingy kitten from his shirt. “Thank you.”

Oikawa cups the kitten in his arms, cradling it. His head is bent as he looks down at her, fussing over her fur and allowing her to teethe on his fingers, which is why it is a surprise when he speaks. “Kunimi-chan.”

Kunimi doesn’t say a word, just looking at him. As expected, Oikawa goes on.

“Have I been a good captain to you?”

Maybe, for as good as Oikawa is at reading others, the power doesn't extend to himself. Blinking, Kumimi searches for something -- anything -- he can possibly say. He isn’t like Oikawa; he’s not good with words, doesn’t know just the thing to tell someone to make them happy. He’s never going to be charming, not like their captain, and he knows that. All Kunimi can be is honest, and as he meets Oikawa’s eyes -- not exactly doubting, but genuinely curious -- it’s all he can be. 

“Oikawa-senpai,” he replies, “our team could not have asked for better.” Neither could he, though he doesn’t say it. Somehow, in the way Oikawa’s eyes seem to fill with warmth, he thinks the other boy knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Kunimi actually have a really interesting relationship -- after the Kitagawa Daiichi disaster I feel like Kunimi really needed a captain he could trust, and Oikawa is the perfect person for that. Oikawa has definitely helped Kunimi grow a lot since middle school.


End file.
